


Long-Distance Call

by Brillador



Series: Our Fine Town (Next Generation) [1]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Next Generation, Next-Gen, Post-Underworld (Once Upon a Time)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-05
Updated: 2016-05-05
Packaged: 2018-06-06 11:16:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6751759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brillador/pseuds/Brillador
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After returning to Storybrooke from NYC, Rumple and Belle learn that their daughter is having nightly disturbances from an unseen but very vocal presence. Some ghosts are benevolent, but not necessarily welcomed. First fic in my Next Generation series.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Late-Night Chats

**Author's Note:**

> Belle is never under the sleeping curse. She and Rumple best Hades together. After returning from the Underworld, they decide to move to New York City to protect their child from further magical threats. Rumplestiltskin is still the Dark One.

Rumple chalked it up to the move, or to the lingering memories of the episode that had prompted him and Belle to return to Storybrooke. Besides, it wasn’t unusual for young children to wake up in the middle of the night from bad dreams and seek parental protection. However, this was the third night in a row he’d been roused by a small hand tugging at the comforter, then his sleeve.

As the Dark One, he’d always been a light sleeper, once he finally managed to get back into the habit of sleeping at all. He was far too little surprised to see Téa next to the bed with her favorite lamb plush cradled in her arms. He still had to ask, after scrubbing some of the grit from his eyes, “Sweetheart, what’s wrong?”

“I heard him again,” she whispered.

For some reason, she thought better of waking up Belle. Rumple agreed with whatever the reason was. He fought a yawn as he slipped free from the covers, mindful not to let a stray draft catch Belle’s bare legs. Her slow breathing reassured him. Téa moved back to allow him room to stand and step into his slippers.

“Want some warm milk?” he asked.

She nodded. Her arms kept her beloved sheep close, but with hardly any tension. The absence of fear alleviated Rumple of most of his guilt in taking time to gather his robe from the closet. It was best to leave the room with some haste to avoid waking Belle by accident.

When he was ready, Rumple offered his hand to his little girl. Téa tucked Mr. Fluff under her arm and slipped her small fingers into his palm. They both tread with soft steps over the floorboards and the runner in the hallway. They sneaked downstairs to the kitchen.

Several minutes later, she was slurping her heated milk from a sippy cup while he waited by the kettle, ready to switch off the heat as soon as vapor spilled from the spout—no letting the kettle whistle its tune tonight. As soon as the little lid on the mouth began sputtering, Rumple picked it up and poured and dipped in a teabag to steep. Sleep still coated his eyes as she joined Téa at the island counter marking the boundary between the kitchen and the living room.

“It was just the voice?” he asked, barely eluding another yawn.

She lowered her cup and nodded. “I thought it was you before,” she said with a lisp. The milk already doing its work.

He smiled for her benefit. “But you know what daddy’s voice sounds like.”

She gave a sigh too weary for a five-year-old. “He kinda sounds like you. Kinda like Mummy, too. Not like Granny or Uncle Archie.”

Somewhere in the encroaching cloud of fatigue, Rumple hit an air-pocket of clarity. Oh—the voice had an accent. One vaguely resembling his or Belle’s. “It’s a man’s voice, right? Is it deep?” He demonstrated as he spoke, then said, “Or like this?” The impish shrill of his old timbre possessed his vocal chords, almost making them crack from disuse.

His dear daughter laughed even while rubbing one of her eyes. “Not like that. Like your normal voice.”

She spoke without fear. It was a different tune from the second night. When she first came to their room, mostly confused, she asked what papa had called to her for. Why was he still in bed? Why was he talking to her from afar? If he wanted to tell her something, it just made sense that they should see each other as they talked. Of course, it hadn’t been him, after all. That’s what scared her last night. Belle had woken first and insisted that Téa stay with them. In the morning, when Belle was still asleep, Rumple had stirred to see his daughter resting her head on his chest. She’d looked up at him like she'd had a revelation. “He talked again, Daddy. He said he doesn’t want me to be afraid. He won’t hurt me.”

Rumple knew better than to let panic sweep away rationale, especially at 3:30 in the morning, but fear started to quickened his pulse as the possibilities agitated his imagination. Ghosts, vampires, dark wizards, other supernatural beings—or a simple but alarming case of a mental disorder. There was no way to diagnose now, so he chose what he hoped was the next most reasonable course of action.

“Have you asked him who he is?”

Téa frowned as she thought it over. “No. I was scared before. But now, I think he sounds nice. He asked about how I'm doing since we came here. But he didn’t say his name. Should I ask?”

“It might be a good idea,” said Rumple with a limp smile.

“Okay.” She sipped her milk again. “I can ask now?”

He frowned while his eyes widened.

“Is he talking to you now?”

“No, but … I think he’s here. He’s been listening.”

“How can you tell?”

Téa looked away as she shrugged. The answer was acceptable enough, if not comforting.

Rumple finally took a sip from his mug, then said, “If you think he’s listening, go ahead and ask his name. See if he feels like sharing.” At this moment, he didn’t care if she was hallucinating voices. She needed to know he believed her.

Téa suddenly snapped out of her drowsy state, eyes turned up, head moving like a wary bird’s. She was listening. Rumple straightened. He tried to listen himself. It took years to learn to drown out the whispers of the dagger. He could remember the uncanny sensation, enough that the hairs on his neck raised. Nothing reached his ears now. The dead quiet made him more nervous than any disembodied voice could have. Just as he was tempted to possibly interrupt an unheard conversation, Téa looked at him.

“Merlin,” she said. Her expression pinched with puzzlement. “His name is Merlin.”

Tension gripped Rumplestiltskin from his shoulders to his stomach. Merlin. As in …

He’d learned from Belle and Emma how they met Merlin in Camelot after freeing him from the tree. And how Nimue, with Hook as her proxy, crushed the centuries-old wizard’s heart to enact the Dark Curse to bring them back to Storybrooke. Now that same wizard, dead these last six years, was speaking to his young daughter. Or someone using his name.

“Did he say why he wants to talk to you?” Aware that his right hand was clenched, Rumple kept it hidden on his knee under the counter.

“He knows about what happened.” Some fear crept in. Téa watched her father like a pup her wolf sire as he considered whether to leap into lethal action to protect her.

“In New York? Our old home?”

She nodded once and looked down to her lap, or her feet. The last thing he wanted was for Téa to have to relive all that. It hadn’t been her fault. By all accounts, a daycare should have been the last place for something like a temper tantrum to spin into, well, something barely short of a natural disaster. It was lucky that, in the circumstances, no one but two crying boys had accused her. They had tried to take a toy dinosaur Téa had been playing with, and when she’d resisted, they’d pushed her to the ground. Where the hell had been the teacher? She said other children were horsing around and occupying the teacher’s attention. Téa insisted she’d planned to go straight to the woman at the first opportunity, until those bullies hit another girl with the dinosaur they’d stolen. They had been trying to “defeat” her plastic fire truck. Instead they’d hit her in the face. When she started crying. Téa’s memories went fuzzy after that. She remembered everything shaking, glass cracking, kids screaming. When things calmed down, she was hiding in a corner behind a few chairs. Despite the trauma and amnesia, she knew she’d made it all happen. News media decided it had to be an earthquake, regardless that the tremors affected just the one building in a city block where buildings touched shoulder to shoulder. An explosion somewhere in the lower levels would’ve been more likely had the police found any traces of debris from an incendiary device. No human culprit had been named.

That bit of good news couldn’t alter the decision Rumple and Belle had feared was just waiting to come for the last couple years.

Bad enough that Téa should have to keep thinking about that awful day—but what the hell did it concern Merlin? How could he know?

“What does he say about it?” Rumple finally forced himself to ask.

Téa met her father’s concerned expression. She raised her shoulders, gathering strength. “He knows I didn’t mean it. If I want, he can help me not do it again.”

Rumple steeled himself against the rise of anger filling his chest like molten iron. “I promised you and Mummy I would help you with that.”

“I told him. He said he could give extra help.”

Over my dead—well, even death didn’t bar anything, it seemed. But the man had some nerve putting Téa in this position. She was still a child! Yes, Rumplestiltskin was the Dark One. Yes, Téa’s power probably came from him. He could just imagine the paranoia making the deceased wizard’s mind spin. It didn’t change that, as her father, Rumple had every right to raise her in the way he saw best.

“Daddy?”

He realized he was scowling. He relaxed into a gentle stare straight away. “Yes?” “Do you know who he is?”

It never helped to leave Téa hanging on a question. As he tried to cobble together an answer, she was already rearing to repeat the question or expand on it.

Rumple took the dive. “I didn’t know him personally.” He mined all that Belle had told him about Camelot. “Your mother met him. He helped Emma with a problem.”

“What problem?”

“That’s … that’s a long and complicated story.” Already he regretted bringing up any of it at all. “How about this: Mummy and I will talk over this offer, then we’ll talk about it with you.”

Five years old was far too young to make a sensible decision. But she had surprisingly mature awareness when decisions were being made without her input. Just this week, Rumple and Belle spoke to Sister Silvia, the kindergarten teacher, formerly a fairy called Fawn. She’d taken them into the hallways outside the classroom when they came to pick up Téa. They must’ve been visible through the little window in the door because there was no other way Téa could’ve seen the conversation going on. As far as they could tell, she was minding her own business. She picked her way through the rudimentary library on the far side while most of the children talked loudly and fooled around as they waited for their families. The spiel was one her parents knew so well they could’ve given it themselves: intelligent, quiet in groups but high-spirited when playing or working one-on-one, imaginative … and prone to knocking over objects on the opposite end of the room with just a look. Lately, Téa had started playing a more discreet game where she’d pull a book with her magic across the floor little by little. Some of the other children saw this and started giggling. But Téa was learning to feign innocence whenever Sister Silvia checked in. That’s when the nun’s “suggestions” came. Téa needed to hear from her parents that such behavior was not acceptable at school. Maybe she could be evaluated by Dr. Hopper for the best way to handle her disruptive tendencies (as though Hopper had any background in handling magical children, even as Téa’s godfather). Or she could take lessons in magic from Mother Superior to help control these impulses—

All three of them jumped when a fist on the other side rapped on the door. Baffled, Silvia opened the door. Téa stood on the other side. She glared up at them. Rumple had to admit that, after all the horrifying deeds he’d witnessed (and committed) in his many years, his heart still skipped a couple beats.

“Uncle Archie says I’m fine,” she said. Then she grabbed the handle and shut the door with a quiet but definitive click.

The sleepy face watching him in the wee hours seemed hardly capable of expressing the depth of resentment she’d shown mere days ago, until the crinkle between her eyebrows appeared. The first sign of willful resistance. Yet she didn’t speak. Rumple reached for her hand. It was cool, small, already sprouting graceful fingers. His larger fingers cupped them. “It’ll be okay, sweetheart. No matter what happens, Mum and I love you. We want you to be happy.”

The crinkle faded. Téa squeezed his hand, then raised her cup. “Can I have more? Please?”

He obliged. Not only did he serve another cup, but after handing it to her, he scooped her up and carried her upstairs. “Do you want to stay with us tonight?”

“I’ll be okay,” she mumbled, already drifting off.

The half-drunk cup and Mr. Fluff began slipping. As he set her on her bed, Rumple moved the cup to her nightstand. Mr. Fluff found his way back into Téa’s curled arms. Rumple got both of them under the covers. He pulled the sheets high enough to cover her little shoulders. She smacked her lips in her sleep.

He smiled, petted her hair, kissed her temple and whispered he usual nightly farewell: “Love you, Teacup.”


	2. Consultation

It had been Belle’s idea to do this at dawn. There was an advantage in nighttime, but after what Rumple had told her, she was more impatient than even him for answers. Not due to any distrust of Merlin—if it really was Merlin, she took his “haunting” as a benefit. The word “haunting” nonetheless conjured chills. Their first and main dilemma was that Rumple’s supplies, usually so well equipped for emergencies, had run dry of a potion that allowed a living person speak to a dead soul. Plus, Merlin technically had no grave to pour it on; the best equivalent would’ve been the floor of Granny’s diner. A peaceful spot by the lake flanked by trees served as a better place to talk with a spirit.

“How do you think Merlin found out about Téa, or what happened in New York?” Belle asked. She held a watering can full of lake water, freshly scooped and waiting to be distributed for the needed spell.

“The dead know a lot of things happening above,” Rumple recalled as he finished writing symbols on the circle of stones. Inside that circle lay another made of his gold thread. The two rings didn’t touch. They needed room to pour the water without washing off the unseen runes. Rumple turned to Belle and tucked the invisible chalk inside his jacket. “Like in any small town, the residents of the Underworld have little to do but gossip.”

Belle frowned uneasily. He spoke from experience, not solely from their venture to that horrid place to rescue Hook. It pained her to remember that he’d already died once. He’d come close to death a couple times before. For all their disagreements, their fights, their partings, Belle wasn’t ready to lose any more family. “So, it could be anyone, then. Not just Merlin. How do we tell if it’s him?” “That is what this circle is for.” Rumple pointed at the stones. “Dead souls can’t pass through, and it will disrupt any glamour.”

“What about Hades?” Belle grimaced at the memory of dealing with him. “What if—”

“Then we’ll know. He can come and go as he pleases, anyway.” Spotting her lip-bite, Rumple lightly ran his hands up her shoulders. “I won’t let him get our child again. I promise you that. Even at the cost of my life.”

With a shaky inhale, Belle rested her hands on his chest. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. We’ll both protect her. Like always.”

Rumple smiled, nodded, then gestured to the water can. “Care to do the honors?”

Belle stepped over the two rings and carefully drizzled water on the thread. “You’re sure we don’t need to use the lake directly?”

“Hades showed me how to open a portal in the Underworld this way. On this side, the water is required, but only as an ingredient. We only need one soul, after all.”

True. They didn’t need to accidentally unleash the forces of the Underworld on Storybrooke. A little lake water sat at the bottom of the can by the time she finished her orbit. The thread gleamed even more brightly, probably more from latent magic than the early morning haze. But they hadn’t triggered the magic yet.

“Very good,” Rumple said. He took Belle’s hand as she exited the ring. “Now, the final touch.” He took out a simple knife. The Dark One dagger rested inside his coat. Belle had reasoned that, as per his promise to regulate how much dark magic he used, an ordinary blade would be enough to make a sliver in his palm. Soon the blood dropped from his clenched hand onto the thread. The gold sheen changed to a scorching orange. It flashed into a ring of molten heat, and in the circle’s center, the ground collapsed into fiery light.

“Concentrate on Merlin, and Merlin only,” Rumple said. Belle pictured him in her mind: tall, witty, kind, youthful yet burdened by years and regrets. The last time she saw him, she was leaving Granny’s to help find Emma and Hook. Merlin had insisted on it. She worried for him now that his magic had been stripped away. When she told him that, he smiled in that carefree way, so cheerful and untrue. His eyes were full of fear, but he assured her that all would be well. What would’ve happened had she’d stayed? Perhaps he foresaw his fate, and her protective interference would have made her another victim of Hook and Nimue. When Rumple touched her back, Belle started and realized her eyes had been closed. She hadn’t seen the magic gushing out of the portal. A shape emerged. Tall, human, masculine, clothed in glittering robes— The red flames faded.

In their place stood Merlin, the former Sorcerer.

She wanted to greet him as an old friend, but Rumple’s presence reminded her of their suspicions. She stopped herself from smiling.

Merlin opened his eyes. He looked dazed. Confusion cleared into astonished understanding. His gaze found the couple and quickly latched onto Belle. He started to smile. Their stern expressions dissuaded him. The old, handsome eyes flicked from the lady to the Dark One.

“Belle. Rumplestiltskin. You’ve summoned me, I see.”

“If you are indeed Merlin,” Rumple said, “then yes. Before we start, would you mind stepping forward?”

Merlin raised his brows. As he obeyed, he eyed the stones at his feet. A sigh rushed out. He said nothing. A few more steps brought him to the edge, and with only brief hesitation he lifted his right foot over the stone ring. A blast shot through his leg. Crying out, he stumbled back. Belle gasped and half-lunged toward him. Rumple caught her shoulders.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered to her. He raised his voice to Merlin. “My apologies. We had to be sure. But you knew, didn’t you?”

“I’d be a poor wizard not to recognize a barrier spell.” Merlin regained his footing. Far from looking injured, he shook the attacked leg and laughed off what pain lingered. A wry edge did slip into his voice. “You do know that a spirit cannot create a glamour. Even if those who possessed magic in life could, I lost my powers before I died.”

“It never hurts to take precautions. Well, it doesn’t hurt us.”

Belle glowered at Rumple. When he soothed her displeasure with a sheepish look, Belle stepped toward the ring. “Are you all right?”

“It only tingles,” Merlin said. His smile persisted.

“I’m sorry. After Hades, we’re both, well, on edge.”

“You have every right. You’re worried for your child.” A more serious attitude overtook Merlin’s face. “You want to know if I’ve been communicating with her. I have, indeed.”

“Why?” Rumple said. He reminded Belle of a mother cat on guard that hissed at even a harmless friend.

“How did you know about her?” Belle added more amiably.

“Word has spread of the Dark One’s child. I … regret to tell you that one individual came to an untimely end during her episode. An elderly custodian caught by debris. Wrong place, wrong time.” Merlin was all kindness, clearly not blaming Téa. Belle’s heart ached all the same. “Information always has a way of trickling down to us. By the time I found out, however, you were already in Storybrooke. Téa said she started hearing me after the move.”

“You haven’t explained why.” Rumple pressed forward until he was next to Belle again.

Her hand slipped down to find his. She swallowed. “It’s . . . it’s not Hades, is it?”

“Well, he isn’t any happier about you getting out of that deal,” Merlin said. “But as far as I know, he has no means or intentions to come after her. The person you should worry about is much worse.”

Rumple scoffed. “Worse than Hades?”

“Yes.” Merlin was sterner than ever. “Nimue.”

Belle’s eyes rounded. Her forehead clenched. She looked at Rumple.

He made the same horrified grimace, but he stared at Merlin. “That’s not possible,” he rasped. “She’s tethered to me. Me and the dagger!”

What looked like frustration and sadness washed over Merlin. He shut his eyes and slowly inhaled. “I wish it weren’t so. But you must understand what Nimue is capable of.” His eyes opened on Rumple. As he spoke, they shifted between him and Belle. “Nimue could not break the tether I placed on the dagger. However, she was able to manipulate it to her advantage. She found a way to keep part of her soul attached to it even after she was killed by another’s hand. But the repercussions went beyond that. With every Dark One who died, and with each that took its place, a piece of their soul split and stayed with the dagger. The same with Excalibur. Were any of its power turned to darkness, her soul could infect it. That’s why she could manipulate Killian Jones, even though he was never bound to the dagger.”

“That’s right,” Belle said, “he was bound to the other half of Excalibur. So, none of your soul got passed on, even though you were tethered to Excalibur, too?”

“Yes. I never had a chance to tamper with the spell, even if I’d wanted to. But because her power and mine came from the same source, her tether became her greatest weapon against anyone who inherited the power.”

Belle had an inkling of the implication. Dread worked like a magnet sometimes; she and Rumple faced each other simultaneously. They could read the same thought and the same emotions in the other’s glance. Rumple held her hand a smidgen tighter. In time he ripped his attention back to Merlin. “What are you saying, Sorcerer?”

The weighty pause between them spoke of comprehension on both sides. Merlin must’ve correctly interrupted the wordless exchange. To his credit, he didn’t push for acknowledgement. He laid out the cards and let them accept the truth at their own pace. “Téa can use magic in the Land Without Magic. Only one magic-user from our world can do that.” He waved a hand. “Me. It’s the nature of the power Nimue and I received from the gods. The Dark One would have such capabilities without the dagger hindering him or her.”

Rumple didn’t speak. He couldn’t speak or even look at Merlin or Belle. He became fixed on an imaginary point somewhere between the air before him and the ground. Belle had to clear her throat to speak. “So, you mean Téa has the … the Dark One’s powers.”

Merlin nodded as though his head were made of granite, perilously close to falling off. “And wherever the Dark One’s powers go, Nimue goes.”

“No.” Rumple broke free of his trance. “She won’t get anywhere near Téa! She’s in here.” He pulled out the dagger. The words spelling his name drifted in a black sea along the blade’s length.

“The rest of her soul that went to the Underworld is in there,” Merlin explained. “Before, Nimue had no power to regain physical form. The best she could do was corrupt a host until their heart turned black. Once the light was snuffed, she’d have the perfect puppet. But we face a serious danger if she finds a way to reunite her entire essence.”

“Why?” Rumple dared to ask. “What would happen?”

“What almost happened to you,” Merlin said, “only worse. Nimue could truly return. She’d destroy the host’s mind and spirit and use the body without restraint.”

“That … that couldn’t happen to …”

“Tell me one thing,” Merlin pressed when Rumple failed to utter the unutterable. “Am I the only voice Téa has heard?”

“As far as she’s told us,” Belle said. “I’m sure she would’ve said something if you weren’t the first.”

“That’s one bit of good news. I don’t know how much Nimue is aware of her state. She could be just biding her time. But that’s why I want to help Téa. If I’m mentoring to her, she won’t feel so alone.”

“She’s not,” Rumple barked. “She has us. I can help her!”

Flecks of doubt interfered with Merlin’s otherwise compassionate composure. “I trust you to do all you can for her. But, at the risk of being severe, you don’t have the best track record.”

Belle watched her husband wince and fail to retort. His anger was directed at more than Merlin. “Then there’s no hope?”

“Of course there is! For Téa, it is not a single path I see for her. Her choices will shape her fate. Just remember: once a choice is made, there’s no going back.”

Belle couldn’t take it all in. Her heart was sinking like a stone in an ocean. Her head was swimming in questions and nightmarish scenarios of her beautiful, sweet child tearing the world apart with darkness and bloodshed. “How could we have let this happen?” she blurted. “We never should’ve … we didn’t know . . .”

Rumple looked at her fully. He squeezed her hand. His voice broke. “Belle, what are you saying?”

“Belle—” Merlin’s voice reverberated with renewed strength. “Don’t give in to despair. I meant only to warn you of the danger ahead. A very real danger, but not an unbeatable one. I will help as best I can. So must you.”

That they nearly lost their child to Hades still woke up Belle at night sometimes. But this came close to overshadowing it.

“Sweetheart,” Rumple continued, tender and pleading, “we’ve faced this darkness before. Through me, Emma, Hook. We can face it again.”

“But it almost destroyed us, Rumple.” She released his hand to dig into the sleeve of his coat while avoiding the flesh underneath. “Time and again. I couldn’t bear that happening to Téa.”

His thumb drew circles on her shoulder. He was as close to tears as she was. “Even if it does happen, we’ll never give up on her. Right?”

Somewhere in her thoughts, Belle could swear she heard her mother’s voice echoing the words. When she looked at nothing but the air before her, Colette's face filled in the unfocused parts of her vision. The last time she saw that face was seconds before the ogres took her from Belle. But she knew what her mother would have said if it was her soul they'd summoned. No matter how often the terrible turns in life tried to trample their hope, the cost of letting that hope disappear was too steep to let happen.

“Of course,” she whispered, both to Rumple and herself. She smile as hopefully as the moment would allow. Returning the smile, Rumple pulled her close, and she moved in willing unison. Warmth enfolded her. With her ear on his chest, she could hear his heart pounding, frantic. Her heartbeat matched his. A morsel of comfort.

“I should be going,” Merlin said, “less we draw the unwanted attention of some dog-walkers.” He added a grin to the comment.

Belle pulled back just enough to speak clearly. “Wait. So you are in the Underworld? Not the other side?”

He nodded. “I’m afraid my business remains unfinished so long as Nimue poses a threat.”

“I’m sorry,” she muttered.

“Belle, if anyone is to blame for Nimue’s existence, it is I. But I don’t think of it as a punishment. Rather, it’s a second chance. I knew my death was likely to come when the Dark One returned to Camelot, and that Emma, wittingly or not, would be an instrument to that end.” He opened his hands in a resigning gesture. “It’s not so bad. My peace will come. After five hundred years stuck in a tree, another decade or two is nothing.”

Rumple rested a hand on the small of Belle’s back. She leaned into it as he pivoted toward Merlin. “I suppose I owe you my thanks.” The expression of gratitude came out as rough as sandpaper.

“Perhaps.” Merlin smiled again, more impish this time. “Let’s see how everything unfolds. I wish you luck, my friends.”

All too quickly, his form dissolved into light, which retreated into the portal. Once the portal closed, Rumple and Belle gathered the thread and scattered the stones. They needed to get home before Téa woke and wondered where her parents had gone. And before any early-rising townsfolk could bother them with questions. Belle couldn’t chase away the dismay unsettling her nerves, nor all the what ifs. She could convince herself, at least, that having Téa at all, as she was, was no mistake. She wouldn’t take back having Téa for all the worlds. Even so, her emotions were a water wheel, turning over hope and discouragement and everything in between without stop. On their walk home, Belle’s body sought her husband’s. She leaned into his side. His arm came around her shoulders. They said nothing. Right now, they preferred letting the approaching light of day wash out the dreary spirit haunting them.


End file.
